DESPAIR

The first hundred years were the worst. Aimlessly drifting through the underworld, driven insane by the wails of the dead. Don’t get me wrong, the underworld isn’t a particularly bad place, no worse than the cesspool known as earth, but the newly deceased have a tendency to deny their death and fruitlessly lament until they are either picked off by lesser demons or realise it’s doing them no good, choose a faction and join the hierarchy of the underworld.

I was neither, after more than a century traversing the endless expanses of the underworld I came to a titanic arch embedded into the side of a cliff. On its front it bore an insignia depicting a greater demon and an arch-angel bowing before an almighty deity, four horsemen at his breast. At first I thought nothing of it, crests and murals conveying victory were not uncommon here, but as I passed through the arch i realised that never before had I seen the forces of the white city and the destroyers legion together, save for in combat, nor had I ever seen the strange celestial being and it sent a shiver of excitement down my spine. Although the horsemen were familiar as the executioners of the charred council, those responsible for the balance of the underworld.

I walked through that endless corridor for what seemed like weeks, admiring hieroglyphics and artefacts lined against the wall and listening to the echo of my step. Eventually I noticed a rise in the floor, gradual at first, but then more steeply until it was a struggle to walk straight. Just as I thought my legs would give out a landing came into sight. I clambered up and sat down, cold sweat running down my neck. I surveyed my surroundings, this place was much different from the way I had come, there were lit torches lining the walls and the stone was less ancient and made of a dark material, obsidian, I believe. I stood up and walked over to a steep spiral staircase and began to climb.

Seven thousand, the number of steps I climbed to reach the top, but when I did, I wish I never had. A single wraith stood alone before a great sphere of energy. Inside was a mysterious winged man, Azreal the old, arch-angel of death. the wraith drew drew its blade in one sleek movement and hurtled towards me with resounding speed. All I had time to do was grab and swing the closest heavy object, a torch, which hit the wraith a glancing blow to the temple, causing its falchion sword to fall from its grasp. I grasped the sword and plunged it into the wraith’s skull. The sphere wavered and broke its occupant, my soon to be master fell gracefully to his feet. “you have released me from captivity, I am forever in your debt.” From that day I was made his apprentice and am known and feared by a new name, despair.

Jack C, RBAI